Weathering the Storm

There is a painful chapter in everyone's life that they don't read out loud.  This is mine:

With much encouragement from Michael's company to put down roots in Charlotte, we bought our first house in the fall of 2015.  We were overjoyed to have our own little corner of the world.  We threw ourselves into making the house a home.  It had previously served as a rental property and needed a little love.  I looked to Pinterest for inspiration.  We stayed up late, drinking cider, painting the house, and dreaming about the future.

Just a year after buying the house, Michael's company announced that they would be moving.  They weren't sure where or when and didn't have much of a plan.  It was a mess and things deteriorated rapidly.  After months of uncertainty, Michael was laid off.  I was 2 months pregnant.  Michael spent countless hours furiously job searching.  He applied to job after job all over the country, often hearing nothing back.  It felt like we were painstakingly folding resumes into paper airplanes and throwing them into an abyss. He came home everyday, dejected and discouraged.  I tried to buoy his spirits, but my own were sinking.  It was the hardest thing to watch him struggle and not be able to help.  There were a few interviews.  Hopes raised and then dashed.  Life continued as it tends to do, and we celebrated milestones: my sister's wedding, holidays with family, visits from friends, but every joy was under a shadow.

I increased my hours at the donut shop to help pay the bills.  My alarm went off early every morning, and I dragged my aching body out of my warm bed.  My coworkers were wonderful; we had a lot of fun, laughing and being creative in the kitchen.  They boosted my morale, and I'm forever grateful for them.  It was a welcome distraction, but the long hours on my feet left me exhausted.  I struggled to maintain my normal pace, but the undeniable truth is that I was slowing down.  The months slogged by as my belly grew.  I was thankful for a healthy pregnancy, but it was hard to enjoy it when the future was one big question mark.  I longed to nest and plan a nursery, but I didn't know whether we would end up staying.  Between the hormones and the stress, Michael and I fought more than usual.  We were both weary down to the soul with no end in sight.  We were in the middle of a relentless, unforgiving storm.

Adam was born on a chilly Tuesday morning in February, a full 5 weeks early.  He was healthy for being so premature, but I was absorbed by a new set of worries: temperature regulation, nursing, birth weight, jaundice.  That time is a blur.  Adam made progress and after only a week spent in the hospital, we were discharged.  I felt like a bear waking from hibernation.  Spring had sprung.  To my eyes, used to the soft glow of florescent light, the sun was blinding.  Flowers had popped up everywhere, trees were budding, and birds were singing.  The world was renewing, but still we were stuck in the same desolate season of life.  Despite the stress of unemployment, I was happy to have Michael's help as we survived those newborn days together and adjusted to our new normal as a family of 5.  One night Michael and I were sitting at the dining room table, watching the kids play, blissfully unaware of the crushing pressure we were facing. We had both run out of hope.  We agreed that the job search was getting nowhere and we needed to come up with an alternative plan for our family.  Life could not continue this way and we simply could not take one more step.  We went to bed broken and defeated.

The very next morning, Michael got an email from a company with whom he had interviewed months before.  We hadn't heard from them in so long, that we had written them off.  They made an offer.  It had taken 8 months, but the rain was finally lifting and the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon.

Checking In

Well, it's been a while since I've posted. The last year has been hell, but that's a story for another time.  

My name is Katie.  I grew up in West Palm Beach and attended the Universtiy of Florida where I earned a bachelor's degree in English and met a handsome teacher's assistant named Michael.  We got married and moved to San Diego where I went to culinary school to pursue my passion for cooking.  I worked at a fancy restaurant for a couple of years until I found out I was expecting.  We quickly realized that we didn't want to raise a family in California, so we moved to Charlotte, NC, where we have lived for the last 4 1/2 years.  Today I am the mother of three crazy little boys: Carter (4), Logan (2), and Adam (2 months).  My life looks crazy most of the time.  We have an endless supply of matchbox cars, Leggos, and superhero paraphernalia.  I stay at home with my littles, which means that I get dangerously little adult interaction.  I sometimes wonder if I'm slowly losing my mind, but they give the sweetest sticky little kisses.  I don't even come close to getting the recommended amount of sleep, so I rely heavily on lots of coffee, under eye concealer, and dry shampoo to function like a human being.  I still love to cook at home, though my children don't always appreciate my elaborate dinners.  I have a hopeless sweet tooth.  My ideal treat is a French pastry, plain latte, and a really good book.  In my free time (hahahaha), I enjoy reading, running, yoga, and knitting.  

I have been fortunate to meet some incredible people along the way and I am thankful to have friends stashed across the country.  I find myself once again uprooting my family and hoping that it will be our forever home.  I'm looking forward to having a new house to decorate and a new city to explore.

Raleigh, here we come!

Solitude

I recently discovered Yoga on Tap at the Old Mecklenburg Brewery in Charlotte where you can get a yoga class and a beer for $5.  Beer and yoga?  Where do I sign up?  If I could rewrite the ever wholesome "My Favorite Things," it might sound something like this:

Flowing in yoga and sarcasm said,

Crispy fried bacon and reading in bed,

Foaming draft beer and the buzz that it brings

These are a few of my favorite things

Julie Andrews would be properly horrified, I'm sure.

Anyways, I went down to OMB last night to check out the class.  It was basically a warehouse with Christmas lights, candles, incense, a choir, and a thousand yogis flowing together.  We sang, held hands during savasana, and the instructor talked about helping our neighbor and getting "yoga stoned."  These are my people.  

Afterwards, I enjoyed a beer in the biergarten.  As I sat there contentedly watching the clouds drift across the sky by myself, it struck me that in my pre children days, I would have felt awkward and self conscious to do something like that alone.  In my younger days, I was a pack animal, feeling safety in numbers, but as I've gotten older I am comfortable to be on my own.  While everyone else seemed to know each other and were chatting amiably, I was happy to sit back and relax.  These days, I relish my solitude and enjoy the peace and quiet, allowing the world to continue around me while I slow down.  I had a great time people watching and day dreaming.  I left feeling recharged and ready to take on the challenges at home.

Empathy

The news has become overwhelmingly depressing: shootings, terrorism, murder, infidelity, hate, injustice.  Every day it's some new horror.  People have become so self absorbed that they lose sight of the humanity of their neighbors.  Certainly man's inhumanity to man has been an issue since the dawn of time, but it seems to be escalating at an astounding rate.

Technology is an amazing gift.  The Internet has made information and communication available instantaneously.  We can keep up with friends that we haven't seen in years, but are we really more connected?  I think social media has provided us with a false sense of intimacy.  We share our thoughts and pictures, but do we really know those people?  A real relationship has to be based on more substance or we end up feeling hollow and dissatisfied.  We often lose the chance to interact with the people around us because our heads are in our phones (I know I'm guilty of this).  We look for validation in the number of virtual likes, while ignoring opportunities to engage in meaningful dialogue with the people sitting next to us.  We are losing the ability to relate to one another on a basic human level.

If you've ever read the comments section of any online article or blog, you have witnessed the scathing remarks.  Behind the veil of anonymity offered by a keyboard, people feel emoboldened to spew hate that they would never dare speak if they were forced to look that person in the eye.  They forget that the person on the other end of the computer is a living breathing human with feelings.  

I think the solution has to take place at the individual level.  Most people are not capable of changing hearts and healing wounds on a grand scale.  I think each person has to do their part to love their neighbors.  I believe parents are on the front lines of this war.  We have to recognize our responsibility in raising the next generation.  We need to make sure they feel heard and learn to channel anger into something productive.  We must put down our phones and turn off the television.  We need to demonstrate empathy, teach them to identify feelings and communicate, take them outside to experience nature, show them what it means to stand up against prejudice and hate, be kinder than is expected, go the extra mile for our neighbors, pay respect to everyone, even those with whom we disagree.  We need to raise them to recognize and honor the dignity of each and every person.

Heroine

I've finally found my perfect literary doppelgänger and her name is Claire Beauchamp.  She is the heroine of the Outlander series.  The television series has used sex to advertise the show, but it has great depth.  The characters are complicated, layered, and multifaceted.  Diana Gabaldon weaves a thick lush fabric of romance, adventure, political intrigue, historical fiction, and fantasy.  Many Outlander fans are distracted by the sex appeal of the leading man.  Let's get it out of the way.  Yes, Jamie is the handsome, rugged and self-sacrificing hero who is fully devoted to his wife.  And he looks damn good in a kilt.  Swoon.  But it is the character of Claire who resonates so deeply with me.  She's anything but the typical fainting damsel in distress.  She swears and holds her liquor, and is presented as the equal of her husband.  She's stubborn, intelligent, strong willed, passionate, and unflinching while still maintaining a vulnerability. 

I saw a challenge the other day to list your 15 favorite books.  Here are mine:

Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon

Anne of Green Gables series by L. M. Montgomery

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

Little Women by Lousia May Alcott

The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

The Red Tent by Anita Diamant

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling

The Sun Also Risses by Ernest Hemingway

Farenheight 451 by Ray Bradbury

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Game of Thrones series by Gerorg R. R. Martin

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

I've noticed a common thread; eight of the books are written by female authors with the main characters being strong women who defy traditional gender roles.  They have an opinion and a voice.  They are not afraid to be seen as being unladylike for speaking their minds.  They are more than just background and support for the male characters to play off of.  Naturally, I would relate to the rebels, the women who disrupt the status quo and challenge their male counterparts.   I've certainly been called a trouble maker.  In fact, my husband's earliest memory of me is when I stormed out of a packed lecture hall after my psychology professor made some absurd political statements.  I yelled, "this is ridiculous," over my shoulder as I slammed the door.  So anytime he accuses me of being difficult, I remind him that he knew that long before we ever started dating.  To quote Claire, "I'm not the meek and obedient type."  Yes!

On Hair and Other Important Issues

I've been reading a lot lately.  I'm a creative junkie and thoughts are bouncing around in my head like a ping pong game that I'm playing by myself with far too many balls (insert inappropriate joke here).  So, I'm going to talk about something really meaningful like my hair.  

I've always identified with Jo from Little Women.  She was the oldest of the March sisters: blunt, feisty, independent, brainy, a tomboy, a writer .  She is described as plain except for her hair, her "one true beauty" as her gorgeous, fashionable, social butterfly little sister (Hey, I have one of those too!) described it.  I don't consider myself to be particularly vain, but I do think of my hair as one of my better features.  So, imagine my feeling of horror and utter betrayal when I woke one morning to discover not a stray gray hair or two, but a whole patch, which sprung up right in front.  I have lovingly named said patch for a certain child... if you've spent more than 5 minutes with my family I'll bet you can guess to whom I am referring.  When I pointed this out to my husband and asked him if it were gray or blonde (serious denial, folks), he looked terrified.  There was no safe answer that would not going to draw my ire.

Unlike Jo, who cut her hair to sell for the sake of her family, I chopped my hair off in what can only be described as a moment of temporary insanity.  I have since cursed myself and vowed to never do that again.  At the time, I had just had a baby and I was hoping for a simpler more manageable hairstyle.  Wrong.  Not only was shorter hair not easier, but I missed my long locks.  While I realize that what I look like isn't particularly important, it's jarring to look in a mirror and not be able to reconcile the image in your head with your reflection.   Who is this stranger?

Now I am in the panstakingly slow process of growing it out.  So I have a graying mullet.  It's magnificent.  It has reached this awkward phase where it is long enough to hang in my face, but not long enough to put up in a ponytail yet.  Thank goodness headbands are in style (or so I think, please don't correct me if I'm wrong).  

I can fairly be described as the least patient person in the world.  I want results and I want them yesterday.  I imagine God is laughing at me as I try to deal with this mess that I created.  But, I think that's life.  I think that I personally create about 90% of my own problems and then become frustrated with myself.

My Frat Boy

My friends call my oldest son The Frat Boy. I can't argue with them. He's rambunctious and loud and always the life of the party. When we go to the park, he runs up to kids he's never met and asks them to play. To him, a stranger is a simply a friend that he hasn't met yet. I love his unbridled enthusiasm and zest for life. He feels emotions so deeply. When he is happy, he is bursting with glee.  He shrieks with excitement and squeals with joy. His giggle is infectious.  When he is mad, watch out!  He's a pistol!

Carter is energy personified.  He has one speed: turbo charged.  He is determined and stubborn.  When he sets his mind to something, he cannot rest until it is done.  I have no doubt that he will be a great leader someday, but it is a challenge day to day to teach and discipline my feisty little person.

My prayer for him is that he never loses that spark. I hope he will always attack life with such with such vigor and passion.  I hope that he is always so unselfconscious and proud of the incredible person he is. 

Happy Birthday Carter!